


Me, I Disconnect From You

by used_songs



Category: Iron Man (Comic), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Extremis, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-18 00:29:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9354386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/used_songs/pseuds/used_songs
Summary: It would be easier if he could maintain that distance.





	

1.

“Tony, sweetheart,” she says, obviously worried. Her fingers move through the air but never quite touch him.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says shortly, aiming for a flat and disinterested tone. “Whatever.”

“It does matter. He wanted to be here but -.”

“If he had wanted to be here, he would’ve been here.”

“You know it’s not that easy. He had that factory inspection and then the DOD hearings.” She puts a hand on his shoulder finally. “He wanted to be here. He’ll make it next time.”

He lets her hand rest there for a moment. Then he steps away. Easier to think that she’s deluded, blinded by her love for Howard. None of that is real, though. He puts on his well-behaved son face and smiles at her. “I know.” She smiles back. Is that love? If he were a machine, like the ones in his father’s lab, he wouldn’t have to worry about this.

 

 

“Jarvis?” There’s no answer, just the empty silence on the line. “Jarvis, I-.”

“I’m sorry, Tony. But I … I am not your parent.” He actually sounds regretful.”

He swallows, feeling sick from more than just the alcohol. “I’m sorry, I didn’t -.”

Jarvis says more gently, “I’m not your parent. I can never be. You know I will have to inform your father.”

He swallows. “I know.” Then he hangs up before his butler can.

 

 

 

“Where do you go?”

He laughs. “What do you mean? I’m right here.”

“No. You’re not. Your body is here, but your mind is really a million miles away.” She tries to be kittenish, to touch his forehead playfully.

“Well,” he replies a little sharply, jerking his head away. “It’s my body you want anyway, isn’t it?”

“It’s all you’re willing to give me,” she protests, defensively pulling the sheet tightly around her now.

“Next time you can have the LMD,” he says shortly, rising from the bed fluidly. “You can show yourself out.”

 

 

“Tony, Tony, Tony. My boy. You think you need to maybe slow down a little?”

“No. I really can’t.”

“You’re not a race car, son.”

“I’ll slow down when I’m dead.”

Obie laughs, “Turns out you’re more useful to me alive then dead. So do me a favor. Take it a little easier. I would really hate to disappoint the investors.” He reaches out and lays a warm hand across his shoulders, pulls him in and hugs him.

“I won’t disappoint them.”

“Then can you please stop with the coke?”

“Fine.” He’s irritated, but he must admit he feels a little warmth, knowing Obie cares enough to ask.

 

 

“So, will I see you again?” he asks.

Tony smiles. “I don’t think so. But it was fun. Thanks.” He’s already planning the rest of his weekend.

“Really? Because I think we could be good together.”

“Never gonna happen, sunshine. Nothing personal.”

 

 

2.

Obie wraps an arm around him from the back and he suppresses a shiver. “What are you doing here, Tony? I told you I had it covered,” he says genially. “You should really be taking it easy and finishing up that doctorate.”

“I just thought I should make an appearance,” he replies, willing his voice to sound carefree.

Obie turns him and puts his big flat hands on Tony’s shoulders, framing their interaction with his arms. He repeats, “I’ve got it covered. We don’t need you here. Go home and grieve for your family.” It should feel like a cage, and it does a little, but it also feels really safe. A little box with just the two of them, shutting out the clamor and the noise for just a little while. The rest of the world is just a white noise drone.

“Come on, Obie. That’s over and done with.”

Obie fixes him with an affectionate stare. “Really? Because I think you need a little more time.”

 

 

“Why are you such a dick?” she flings at him.

He laughs. “Because you people let me be one. Hell, you reward me for it.”

“So none of that was real?” she says, tearing up.

“Oh come on. It’s a game. You knew that,” he says roughly.

“What I know,” she says bitterly, “is that you’re every bit the freak that people say you are. Why do you even bother with people when you have all of your little electric friends?” She gestures at DUM-E.

 

 

It goes so fast. It’s partially the coke. Partially. But honestly it’s everything else. Obie’s hands on him, the meetings he attends, the meetings he avoids, the nagging voice of his new PA, the code, so much fucking code until he can’t see straight but that’s really OK, the trips to Vegas, dice tumbling across the table, a thousand bodies tumbled in a series of beds across the world, a thousand bodies strewn across the floor of the world and that’s courtesy of him too. So it’s partially the coke. Partially the booze. Speeding and slowing like pistons churning. As in, it all slides together and when he wakes up weeks have gone by. And if the music could be faster and his brain could burn up dendrites faster and if he could keep up … yeah.

 

 

“We haven’t had a serious conversation since MIT, Tones. That was a long time ago.”

“OK, Honey Bear. What serious stuff do you want to talk about?”

“My mom is worried about you. She saw some interview you did on TV, and she called to ask me about you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Still partying and bingeing in the workshop.” Rhodey sounds disapproving.

Tony wheeled the stool over to the workbench. “Yep. Gotta keep up. Obie wants improvements to the Jericho, and I’m still trying to get a handle on those modular robots I told you about. I’m a busy guy.”

“Who went on a three day bender in Cancun.”

“Yeah … well … anyway, gotta go, Rhodey. Good talk.”

 

 3.

It is so cold and his chest hurts so much, more than he had thought anything could ever hurt, and really all he wants to do is die. It’s pain beyond what he thought pain could be. But this guy wouldn’t stop looking at him. Like no one had ever really looked at him before. Like it was time for him to step up, step forward. Time to grow up. Time to wall the pain off, the terror, and do what he does best.

When you think about it, it’s actually a little cool. He has a mechanical heart now and he runs on electricity. So, you know, that’s interesting. He wasn’t really meant to be a person, maybe. Maybe this is what Howard saw in him so long ago.

 

 

“What were you thinking?’ She actually sounds angry. Or maybe that’s disappointment. Who the hell knows? Aren’t they essentially the same thing? Something to run away from as fast as he can. Except … the distance he’s trying to regain is the same distance he felt buried in the cave. The same distance that walking alone through the desert gets you. And he doesn’t know much about how to be a person, but he knows he can’t take much more of that kind of solitude.

“I guess I was thinking that …”

“What?” Her voice is a little softer. He knows she didn’t really expect an answer because he’s never given one before. No one has ever known what he was thinking.

“I was thinking that I could stop drinking. But … it’s been hard.” That admission hurts. It makes his chest ache in a very familiar way. “It’s just … Howard … I never wanted to be like him. But.” He stops. The words are overwhelming him, and he is not going to cry or even let his voice crack. You cannot show any weakness or they will tear you apart.

 

 

“I’m the realest person you’ll ever meet.”

He sits back and stares. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“Oh yeah? Spend a lot of time in reality, do you?”

“No. But I know real when I see it.”

 

 

The thing is, the alcohol helps support the mask. You’d think that it wouldn’t. That the mild loss of control would make it harder to maintain a façade, but the opposite is true. Because the reality is, the mask is there between him and himself too. That’s the only way it works. He has to fool himself too. That’s why it’s easier to be alone with the bots. Then he can let himself out a little without the mask. But now, there are all of these … people around. So, as much as he hates Howard, he needs the alcohol. He’s not going to get fooled again.

 

 

4.

What is beyond the portal is more than he can really process. There’s no way to wall off this terror because the fear is all there is. That and the stars and the expanding, aching cold. The star in his heart dies away in the darkness and a million lights falter in the distance.

 

So, even when he gets back, none of it seems real. He pretends. Of course he does. He plays the part. But it’s not surprising when they all drift away and he finds himself alone at the bottom of the Pacific. And then alone and trudging through the snow dragging his sins behind him. Alone and watching everything and everyone around him burn.

 

 

 “I thought you were going to stop drinking, Tony?” she says. “How long did it last this time?”

“Three days,” he says, raising a glass to her anger. Three days of insects running under his skin, lifting it off. Three days of terrible clarity. Three days where the world and everyone in it was pasted thickly over his body and he couldn’t even take a breath.

 

 

 5.

He looks at the screen. Looks at Steve. Looks at the screen again. Looking back in time. “Did you know?” He takes a step back, away from all of it. It has always been a mistake to care. Why does he have to keep relearning this lesson?

 

 

He checks the code, his eyes scanning the lines looking for anything out of place. Rechecks the code. It wouldn’t do to be sloppy now. It’s like the portal, only this time he’s ready. It’s like Jarvis gently putting that distance between them, putting him in his place. He’s going to put the world in its place, push it just that far away. The desert wasn’t that bad. Being beneath the ocean wasn’t that bad.

Too late, he remembers the fierce joy when a hand reached out to grasp his and pull him to safety. But the plunger on the syringe is already depressed and he can already feel it lighting up under his skin. He can already feel himself pouring out, being replaced by an infinite number of beautiful, indifferent machines.

In the distance, he hears the glass smash and a jumble of disconnected sounds, almost feels the change in altitude as he is lifted. But he is going away, finding the place he has always sought. If he comes back, he’ll be different and nothing that came before will matter.


End file.
